The Justification Program
by ThatSwanGirl
Summary: More than often, blood is spilled for a fair cause. She is the silent beauty and receptionist in a law firm. He is the wealthy man whose secrets can't bear the sight of daylight. Will he be able to bewitch her despite their differences? AH, OOC, Rated M
1. Chapter 1

**I don't know if anyone is really reading the disclaimer thing. I never do anyway. OK, so I wrote this a while ago, but never actually posted it anywhere. It's just for fun so you'll have to excuse the grammar and spelling mistakes. This chapter has not been beta'd. No copyright infringement intended yadda, yadda, yadda. Now lets go.**

* * *

"**The Justification Program"**

**Chapter one**

I attempt to get my thoughts straight again.

This is not news I hoped to find down my doorstep on this dark, Friday morning. Hell, this is not news I would likely ever want to find. And certainly not on _my_ doorstep.

_This can't be happening._

I stare down at the newspaper loosely placed in my hands. My lips purse themselves in an angry gesture, my eyes narrow at the paragraph, still not fully comprehending.

_Mr. and Mrs. Harry Clearwater of Seattle, Washington, announce the engagement of their daughter, Miss Leah A. Clearwater, to Mr. Jacob E. Black, son of Mr. and Mrs. William Black, of Seattle, Washington. The couple is planning a March wedding.__  
__Miss Clearwater is a graduate from Stanford University. Mr. Black is graduate from the University of Seattle..._

I am too damn stubborn to weep, but can still feel the angry tears sting my eyes. I wonder what I did to deserve this kind of treatment, but my mind comes up blank. He makes me feel like used toilet paper, wiped his ass and discarded to the sewers, next to the rats. I am disgusted. With him, but even more with myself.

Briefly I considered putting myself on a permanent diet of undiluted alcohol, preferably good vodka, but dispelled the thought. I continued my inner moping.

_The couple is planning a March wedding__…_

Jacob and I had ended our relationship on the eighteenth of January. This was nine days ago.

Apparently in the time of our separation, he has run off with that troll, Leah Clearwater and decided to marry her in no less than two months! My hands itch for his neck.

Jacob and I have had a healthy, solid relationship for nearly five years. About one and a half week ago we had a fight, our worst one. It got to the point where I might have thrown a lamp his way. That was when I told him to leave. I was almost certain that our 'brake up' would soon come to an end and I would forgive him. There were even times last week that I hoped up to the point of desperation, to find him crouching on my doorstep, begging me for forgiveness.

Sadly, he had not contacted or approached me in any way. Granted, it was exactly what I told him to do, but it still hurt to have him give up on us. I was prepared to fight for us, damn it.

I shake my head wistfully and hope to heavens that Charlie hasn't seen the article yet. He loves Jake.

Suddenly March seems awfully close, and I wonder why it has to be. Is it because Jake and Leah are so in love they simply cannot wait any longer to get married? Or perhaps it is a trick to raise my jealousy?

I am pathetic to even consider the latter.

Or maybe, maybe it is Jacob that got the wrench knocked up. That could easily be possible. It would explain the short time period of time in which their marriage would be established. After all, Jacob had no plans of marrying young before he left me.

I shove the newspaper aside, reach for my Blackberry and text Tanya.

'_**Seattle Times, page 11. -B'**_

I even throw in a frowning angry smiley for good measure.

Five minutes later my phone lights up with an incoming text message.

'_**That son of a bitch. I am going to kill him. -T'**_ it read.

She would not get the chance if I got to him first. I replied instantly.

'_**Please don't. U will end up in jail. I need my shoulder to cry on. -B'**_

'_**I'll come over 2night. -T'**_

No, not tonight. I want to be alone. Maybe try and dig a hole, crawl into it. Yes, that I like.

'_**Don't come over.-B' **_I send back.

'_**I have lots of tequila and phish food. -T'**_

Shit. She knows me well, including my weak spots. I can only love her for it.

'_**C you at 7. -B'**_

– • –

It is 8:12 AM when I finally stumble out my tiny apartment. To my horror, I am very near late.

Stephan will not be happy. In fact, I have the sneaking suspicion he will be furious when I walk into the office late.

I almost regret the decision to go to work by subway instead of with my much more private, but considerably slower truck. I get strange looks from people in the wagon as they see me fidgeting continuously. I glance at my watch for the umpteenth time, willing for the time to go slower for once.

On the street my kitten heels prove to be a tripping point on several locations. My deep blue skirt is, although sophisticated, preventing me from taking any long strides. What was I thinking when I squeezed my bum into it this morning? I mentally slap myself on the forehead and roll my eyes.

When I finally enter the familiar grey building, I am a sweating mess.

_Who knew that one could perspire this much?_

Taking the wind in consideration, I know that my hair is probably pointing all kinds of different directions. My breath is a little deeper thanks to all the speed walking I've done.

I take elevator up to the fifth floor and dash into the bathroom unseen. Immediately my hands work their way through my hair, desperate to tame that what could only be described as a chaos. I apply some lipstick, some mascara, and dab away my sweat. When I dig deeper in my purse, I find a can of deodorant. Always prepared for the worst situations.

When presentable, I feel confident enough to face my boss. I put my purse and beige coat in the closet and sigh, knowing what's next to come.

He is at my desk when I approach. With his shiny, combed back, black hairdo and a characteristic scowl upon his face, he is easily recognizable.

"Good morning Mr. Hertz."

Stefan seems unimpressed and eyes me coldly.

"Your late," He says.

"I know Mr. Hertz, I –"

He holds his hand up, effectively silencing me. "No matter how fascinating your excuses might be, there's no need to bore me with those. Now if you would make yourself useful and make coffee…"

…

He stands there for a second, a single eyebrow quirks.

"Well, move. Coffee will not pour itself!"

"Yes, of course." I blink at him, blush, and scurry off in the direction of the coffee machine.

I have seen Stefan grow increasingly more snappish and pale during the involving week. Something is eating him, and it is hungry. More ever than usual, he finds it in his job description to breathe down my neck while I am busy reorganizing every file in the office, emailing clients or answering phone calls.

I press the button for a double espresso and grumble insults under my breath. You would think I was a slave the way Stefan treats me. Of course, it would be foolish to let my irritation show. I need this job. I cannot go around unemployed with bills that need to be paid.

"It's not your fault you know. He has been in a foul mood ever since he walked in this morning." Says Kate, Stephan's secretary, who leans casually against the sink of the small kitchenette. She has worked at H&R for almost four years. I am surprised she hasn't quit yet. Kate is almost too nice to be working for someone as Stefan. She claims she enjoys her job, as do I. Most of the time.

I snort. "Could he at least cut me some slack for this one time? I was only three minutes late for crying out loud."

She playfully rolls her eyes and tells me that the coffee is done. I scowl at her and take the coffee to the dictator's office.

The room has a large wall made entirely out of glass, which allows you to have a wide view on the entire street below. Other than that the office is uninteresting and plain. There is no interesting artwork that catches the eye. Or any color that stands out against to the dull shade of white. Behind a desk made of steel and glass is where Stefan sits. I place the coffee in front of him, receiving another unnecessary comment on my lateness. I say nothing, with great effort. He is lucky I didn't spit in his drink, and should feel thankful.

Just when I turn to leave, he asks me to stay for a moment. I linger awkwardly behind one of the chairs placed in front of his desk.

"Katelyn!" He barks out suddenly, just after he sips of the brown liquid. I flinch at his tone._ He does not sound happy at all._

Kate takes place next to me seconds later, notebook firmly in hands.

"Cancel all my appointments after ten, and tell Vivian to handle the meeting without me."

"Cancel all your appointments? But sir, you have a conference call with Mr. Anderson at eleven thirty." Kate addresses him carefully, not quite sure what exactly is the right thing to do.

"I know that," Stefan snaps, "but that is nothing that can't be rearranged. I have more important matters that require my attention for the day."

Kate nods and scribbles in her notebook all the while.

"And Miss Swan, a certain client will arrive sometime this afternoon. Please treat him respectfully and be careful not to make a fool out of yourself. We do not need blemish to our good name, understood?"

Inside I am seething. Not make a fool out of myself? As if he needs to mention that. I do not possess the intellectual qualities of an earwig! I feel humiliated. My face is blank.

I swallow my retort and answer a short: "Yes, sir."

He studies me for a moment, then seems satisfied with himself. He nods at Kate and I, dismissing the pair of us.

I spend the rest of the morning daydreaming of ways to get away with a murder or two. Jacob is on top of my list, prowling his newly acquired wedding band while holding a sonograph picture showing a tiny bean, and what will soon be his child.

I let out a broken sigh. This is _so_ not my day.

My work has taken most of my attention, seeing as I need to rearrange Stephan's appointments. I have difficulties doing this, as there are only a few holes in his agenda. The distraction is welcome though, and keeps my mind on an busy and legal trail.

My workspace sees over the entire reception area of the small law firm. The desk, where I'm located, is made of a pale wood. Papers and files are neatly organized in stacks next to the Mac.

Stefan has appeared twice out of his office in the time I've been sitting here. Both times he had this a look in his eyes that was almost frantic. I begin to wonder who this mystery client of his might be. Anyone who is able to get Stefan behave like this seems to be worth meeting.

Abruptly, my attention sweeps to the elevator, from where I can hear a clear '_ping'_.

I instantly know, as soon as the doors slide open, what is so different about this client.

* * *

**So there you have it. The first chapter of my story. Please let me know your thoughts, I'd appriciate it. Don't know if I should write more or not. Well anyway, thanks for reading. Cheers.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! I want to thank everyone that read the first chapter. Again, this chapter was not betaed so please excuse grammar ens spelling errors. Now I will no longer keep you waiting and just get to the story. Enjoy :)**

* * *

"**The Justification Program"**

**Chapter Two:**

I sit at my desk while being scrutinized by the stare of Mr. Cullen's… security guy? This situation is just getting stranger by the second. I try not to look bothered while I type on my keyboard, but I find it hard to keep my mind in 'work-mode' when all I can really think about is the tall and gorgeous man sitting in the room just down the hall.

I have never heard his name before – Mr. Cullen. I find this strange because I usually know what's going on in the office. It's my job after all. I know who walks in and why. Until now.

Stefan had a right to be intimidated by this man. Even I am intimidated. It was all I could do not to gawk at him when he stepped out of the elevator twenty minutes ago.

Long and lean he moved in his grey three piece suit that was revealed by a black overcoat. Copper disarray rested on his head. His face made me think back of the movie 'License to kill'. Yes… even though he did not look anything like Timothy Dalton, they both had that same air about them. Powerful and maybe somewhat dangerous.

He did not notice me, I think. As soon as he stepped into the lobby Stefan was there to greet him. I think Stefan might have been on high alert in his office, waiting for the elevator to chime. "Mr. Cullen," he'd said in a tone full of forced calmness. "If you would follow me, please." He was nervous. Really, really nervous. That was uncommon if not bizarre. The sight of Stefan looking so flustered almost made me smile. Instead I watched as he hurried Mr. Cullen down the hall to disappear into the meeting room.

I glance up at the security guy. What is his name again?

"Um… Sir?" I call tentatively.

The man continues to stare at me, or in my direction. I can't really tell because of the dark glasses that rest on his sharp nose. The sun is at least three months away, I don't see why he needs it. If it's purpose is to just to be intimidate me, It works.

He does not answer so I take that as an invitation to continue. "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

He just gently shakes his head in reply… okay, no coffee I guess.

My phone buzzes. It's Tanya.

'_**How R U keeping up? –T'**_

The cheater… I sigh, I almost forgot about Jake. Almost. Funny how one single text can send your mood into a downwards spiral. I glance around quickly before I text back.

'_**Was that a rhetorical question or do U rly want me 2 answer? –B'**_

'_**Guess not. Will bring extra bottle tequila 2night. –T' **_I snort at that. Tanya is a wild and completely relentless when it comes to drinking. I cannot count on my two hands how many times I've dragged Tanya to her apartment or out of the grips of men who themselves had a beer too much. She will probably pass out on my couch later this evening.

My stomach rumbles… shit. The only thing edible I have brought with me is a banana. Today is too busy to quickly run down the street and buy myself some lunch. I quickly decide on a large dinner when I come home.

I flip through the mail that has arrived this morning while eating my banana. When I'm done I grab the letter opener and open the envelopes one by one. This is such a thoughtless task, my mind is elsewhere. I think of what Jacob is doing right now. He is probably working at the garage. Jacob is a car mechanic. He loves cars and had always been obsessed by them. In high school he single handedly fixed an old Volkswagen Rabbit. It was red, well mostly red. The paintjob had been wearing off a bit so you could see metal through it. I remember him proudly driving us home from Port Angeles after we went on our first date, me smiling at our joined hands over the console. We had been so happy together. But of course then I did not yet know what a scumbag liar he really is.

My mind drifts to page 11 of the Seattle times, and I open an envelope with a bit too much force. You must understand, I may be sad and angry, but would never intentionally hurt myself. This is possibly because I am too much of a pansy. Scratch possibly.

I stab myself in the hand.

Involuntary, I let out a little shriek as the iron letter opener clatters on the floor loudly. I flinch when I see the gash on the side of my hand, and the blood that is beginning to drizzle out in an obscene pace. Frantically I turn to reach for the box of tissues beneath the reception counter. Luckily I am able to stow most of the gushing of blood quickly.

"Miss?" A voice comes from the other end of the room. My eyes shoot up. The security guy regards me with concern.

"It's okay," I ensure him quietly. His lips form a thin line but he stays put. "I'll just clean this up," I murmur more to myself as I rush to the kitchenette. I rinse my hand under the tab and try not to wince at the sight of the nasty cut that brutally disfigures my hand. I groan and let my head fall against the overhead Cabinet. _Great, just great…_

This is not my day. It seems as if every single thing is going wrong. I feel myself getting emotional. I allow a single tear to slide down my cheek. The rest will have to wait until later. Work does not grant me time for a self pity blubber bash, so I straighten my shoulders.

"Bel-la," sings a voice behind me. I swivel around to face the amused smile of Vladimir Romanov, still in his beige overcoat. I didn't even hear him come in. Hastily I wipe my tear away with my sleeve. He frowns. His amusement slowly turns to confusion and fades to worry. He glances down at my hand, which has started bleeding again. Vladimir is by my side in an instant and examines it carefully.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I attacked myself. Thought I could use another scar." I crack a smile, however my dry attempt at humor fails to amuse him. Without saying a word, he gets the first aid kit from the top cabinet and begins to apply disinfection to my wound.

I purse my lips as he tends to my hand. _That stuff bites!_

"You really should be more careful with yourself, Bella. One of these days… I dread to think of it." Vladimir says with a sigh, trying to be stern I'm sure.

I feel the need to defend myself. "I didn't do it on purpose," I mutter indignantly. He rolls his eyes.

"At least you won't need any stitches this time," he says. And a moment later after the band aid is placed. "All done."

"Thanks," I say while rubbing my hand hesitantly.

"No problem," he says, and a slow grin spreads across his face. "You can make it up to me. I was thinking tonight… We can go out and eat Italian. With candlelight of course," he continues shamelessly.

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"As long as you keep saying no to me. You of all people should know that I never lose a case. This is because I never give up." I would call him tenacious or relentless.

I laugh. "What about your wife? Doesn't she have a say in this?"

"Hannah?" He snorts, his amber eyes glinting with mischief. "What Hannah doesn't know won't hurt her. Besides, we've just hired a new pool guy… Antonio? She can't complain."

I giggle, knowing he is only joking. He has been trying to go out with me since I started working here. At first I was a bit thrown by his all of this. Any sane person would. Here I was on my first day. My boss introduces himself as Vladimir, speaks fondly of his wife and asks me out for dinner. As soon as I saw the humor in the situation, I played along. It has now been a running joke between us for as long as I can remember.

Vladimir has been happily married for sixteen years last August. I can't imagine a better suited couple than Vladimir and Hannah.

"I'll think about it Casanova," I scoff.

"You can think about me anytime," He counters playfully.

"Go away. You are so cheesy." So cheesy that I can smell you from a mile away.

He holds his hands up in defense, hazel eyes still glimmering. "Just say the words and I will, Bella."

I groan. He must always have the last word. Always. But I can understand that to some certain extent. Men are men, and men always want to have the last word. It's partly because of the testosterone storming through their veins, and partly because they feel like they might just die a painful death if they don't have the final say.

"Have you seen Stephan by any chance? I tried to call him but he wouldn't pick up his phone."

I look at him questionably. The Dictator didn't pick up? That is so unlike him. "Yeah, he's here," I answer "Stressed out though."

Vladimir eyes me curiously. "Why?"

"I think it's got to do something with this new client – Mr. Cullen."

Vladimir pales slightly beneath his spray tan. "I see," He says simply and clears his throat. He distractedly asks me if my hand is still hurting. I lie.

Ensured, Vladimir pats me awkwardly on the shoulder and walks toward his office. Why so suddenly, I don't know.

Back in the lobby I ignore the security guy politely as I rid the reception counter of blood with my nose raised. The saltiness of the smell wasn't doing anything good to my already half-empty stomach. I feel dizzy. Not good.

I am about to sit down when dictator Stefan appears out of nowhere. He starts talking immediately. "I want you to fetch Mr. Cullen and me coffee." He is gone the next second. His office door slams. I cringe.

Please. Not an overly complex word to speak. Stefan should try it. He would maybe even be able to make friends then.

I do as I am told and put coffee and milk on a tray, and carry it to the meeting room.

I hear a raised voice from the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, I knock once before opening the door.

* * *

**And that's it for now. That must be annoying for you. Still no Edward, eh? I promise that he will make an appearance in the next chapter (which I will post sometime this week). You can leave a review if you want, I'd appreciate it. See ya'll later. Cheers.**


End file.
